


Aerouant

by Lywinis



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon!phil, Getting Together, M/M, Shapeshifter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve needs time after the Winter Soldier returns to them. Bucky is back, and isn't seeing Steve right now. Steve figures he has his reasons. He uses his downtime to get away from it all. Camping should destress him. He can fish, and relax, and not be Captain America for a while.</p>
<p>Until he finds Nick Fury taking a seemingly abandoned service road up Algonquin Peak.</p>
<p>That's when things get interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nick's Secret

Steve hadn’t been at the spy game long, but he knew enough to know when he was being played. With Bucky returned to the fold (and he knew it would take time, that was why he was keeping his distance), he knew his usefulness to the team was limited. Natasha didn’t come out and say it, and neither did Clint, but he could catch the surreptitious looks and discern their meaning quicker than the two agents could disguise them.

It wasn’t a surprise to himself that Bucky was shell-shocked. Neither was it a surprise that he was carrying the weight of the world. He could feel his hands tremor when he picked up his charcoal. It happened to everyone eventually. What surprised him was that he had the time to deal with it, to process and compartmentalize, and oh, how he hated that word. It smacked of lies to oneself, but he knew better. He packed his truck and set out, the mountains of New York calling his name.

Camping would soothe his troubled soul, at least for a little while.

He had let go of several knots of tension once Bucky had been returned home. He was adjusting. Steve hadn’t been invited. It had hurt, but he understood. Some things a person needed to deal with by themselves. Sam and Natasha had agreed to stick close, to keep an eye on him. It couldn’t hurt to take his own time.

His breath misted the air as Steve set out, pup tent loaded into the back with his camp chair and other gear. He camped light, and he didn’t think anyone would tail him, as he was setting out at three in the morning to be able to set camp by sunrise. His radio played low, smooth jazz, and a light dusting of frost coated the windshield, wiped away before he even closed on Yonkers.

His time was his own, and he knew it. There was no urgency, no foot to the floor, and his heartrate was a steady thump in his chest. He’d do some camping, paint some scenery, do some fishing.

It was such a change from the past six months he could feel it, like lead weights for endurance training being stripped away, one by one.

It was nice.

He stopped on the outskirts of Chestertown and grabbed coffee and a danish, the pastry dangling from his mouth as he navigated the pickup onto the highway that would take him into the park. It was autumn, and the rising sun limned the trees in all their glory, setting the leaves ablaze and coloring their oranges and reds with even more fire as he navigated to his charted out spot on the mountain.

What he hadn’t expected was a familiar black SUV pulling onto a service road ahead of him. A quick glance at the license plate told him what he needed to know. The flash of the eagle on the door had been a warning. He pulled to the side of the road, twisted around in the driver’s seat, although he’d stopped about a quarter mile up the road.

Why was Nick Fury driving up to Algonquin Peak?

He made the split second decision, slewing the truck around, moving back to the service road and getting out to undo the chains that held the gate shut. “No Trespassers” gleamed dully in the burgeoning dawn, but he’d seen Nick take the same road, and what was SHIELD doing out here?

His curiosity was piqued. And really, it had helped him these last couple of months. If nothing else, it would be harmless. He’d given Nick enough of a lead that he would likely be able to follow at a distance, with the sun rising over the mountain’s peak.

* * *

Nick Fury waiting around the next bend, leaning against his SUV with a disappointed expression, didn’t phase him in the slightest. He had a feeling that this was bigger than even the tricarriers. Nick Fury was traveling alone, that Steve could see. He didn’t look road rough, which meant that this had been his destination all along.

“Why are you tailing me, Rogers?” he asked as Steve hopped down out of his truck.

“Wasn’t, originally. Was gonna go camping, do some fishing.” Steve raised a brow. He realized he sounded a bit sullen. “Sir.”

“That so?” he asked, tilting his head and fixing him with a dark stare from his one good eye.

“You’re free to check the back of the truck,” Steve said. “Tent, poles, and everything.”

Fury grunted. “I take it you were passing through.”

“I take it you’re not.”

“Classified.”

“Yeah, I figured. Is this something that’s going to get me into trouble?” he asked, blue eyes narrowing as he took Fury in. “Like last time.”

Fury sighed. “No. I’m just visiting a friend. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your mouth shut about me being here.”

“Not a word,” Steve said. “Who?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Fury said.

“Maybe because there’s a precedent.” Steve raised a brow.

“Touche,” Nick said. He thought for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “Park your truck in the copse of trees to the left. Make sure it can’t be seen.”

“…why?”

“Just…please, do as I ask.”

Steve thinned his lips and sighed, but did, pulling his truck into the clearing and covering it with a green dappled tarp. Sometimes, he didn’t want to be found, and the blue truck stood out in the trees. He turned to Fury, who nodded.

“Get in.” Fury turned and climbed back into the SUV, waiting for Steve to join him. They continued along the service road, the shocks in the vehicle doing little to stop the jouncing of the rough dirt road. Nick didn’t speak for a long while. Steve, used to the silence, waited.

“I’m glad the rain didn’t wash the road out this time,” Fury said, his hands steady on the wheel. “It was a bitch to get up here last season, even with the winch.”

Steve raised a brow.

“The person we’re going to go see is someone you know,” Fury said after a few more moments, seeming to gather his thoughts. “Even if you don’t recognize him off the bat. But I think he’d be glad to see you.”

Steve wracked his brain, trying to think of who it could be, but came up blank. Still, the climb wound higher and higher, and he was content to wait. Perhaps Fury had a secret bunker in the hills. It wouldn’t really surprise Steve. Nothing would, anymore.

“All I ask is that you don’t stress him out too badly. He’s been through a lot recently.” Steve’s lips compressed, and they climbed higher in silence.

As they crested the mountain onto a flat shelf, Steve could see the sun rising and warming the rocks around them. Fog rolled off the trees, dissipating in wisps. While it wasn’t quite winter, it was getting there, and the air would be crisp this high up.

“He’s probably not awake yet,” Nick murmured. “He’s not usually up until around noon, until the sun’s really up. He doesn’t much care for the cold.”

The mountain sported a wide shelf, and Nick parked the SUV. He turned it off and looked at Steve, but Steve was already out, tugging his bluejean coat closer about him, glad for the sheepskin lining.

“Cold up here,” Steve said, sniffing the air. “Thin air, too.”

“Not too thin,” Nick amended. “Still, he likes it up here. Wait here, please.”

Steve raised a brow, but allowed Nick the courtesy, leaning against the cooling engine of the vehicle. The ticking of the engine block was drowned out by Nick’s rap on something hollow by the mouth of a cave that looked out onto the forest below. Who would need something like this?

He didn’t ask the question aloud, puzzling it over in his head. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known plenty of people who liked the wilds. Logan, and subsequently the girl who turned out to be his daughter had both enjoyed their time out here. Privacy was currency. There was a rumbling growl that sent Steve onto the balls of his feet, wishing for the shield still in the back of his truck.

Was the Hulk out here? He’d thought that Bruce had…

Before he could reach the mouth of the cave, a huge head hove into view, long and serpentine on a slender, curving neck. The mouth was a muzzle like a mammal, and as the being yawned, Steve counted sharp teeth that curved backward, gleaming like knives in the dawn. Feathers like a bird’s ruffled at the yawn, and then smoothed themselves out, save for an expressive crest almost like a cockatiel’s, one that perked forward as the thing spotted Nick.

Moving forward, it wriggled out of the cave, revealing a sleek body coated in silver scales, scales that lightened to white along its belly. Wings with more feathers tipped in black, looking like ink pens shook themselves free, and Steve caught his breath. Paws stamping in the dirt, the dragon circled Nick and greeted him with a nudge from his muzzle, thrumming a song.

A dragon.

Nick chuckled as though this was rote by now, reaching up and rubbing at the joint where the dragon’s neck met its skull. It purred (Steve was beginning to think he was hysterical right about now, the dragon was purring), and then rubbed its head along Nick’s palms. Steve could see how the left wing drooped. An old injury?

“Brought you what you requested,” Nick said, giving the dragon one last rub. There was a chirp of question, and Nick pulled a tablet from his pocket. “I can’t believe I make the trip up every week to bring you your DVR history…”

Steve goggled. The dragon sat on its rump with a hum of pleasure, and its tail swished like a pleased cat’s.

“Sixty hours of Supernanny alone. Are you kidding me?” Nick shook his head. “We’ve really gotta get you a T-1 line up here…”

The dragon snorted, then on the inhale seemed to catch Steve’s scent. He realized he’d been standing downwind, which was exactly why Nick had him standing to the side. The dragon’s head whipped toward him, and then Steve caught blue-grey eyes widening.

The dragon ran.

It nearly bowled Nick over, then wriggled back into the cave, tail whipping as its hips caught on the cave entrance. Nick snorted, then the dragon was gone, slithering into the cave and out of sight.

“Told him those donuts would go right to his ass,” he chuckled.

“Fury…” Steve said, his voice slow as he was still working on parsing that. “That was a dragon.”

“Yes,” Nick said patiently, as though he were speaking to a very small child. “He does that sometimes.”

“Who does that sometimes?” Steve said, very carefully, through his teeth.

“Come on.” Nick moved into the cave, which would accommodate him easily where the dragon had trouble. Steve caught the glitter of scales that had scraped free, glinting in the sunlight. “You’ll likely warrant a reintroduction.”

Steve hesitated, then followed Nick into the dark of the cavern. It was cool, then warmed as he got the sense of something breathing. Water ran, trickling off of rocks, and Steve followed the scent of it to a deep, clear pool in a widening corner of what appeared to be a cave. Shafts of light trickled down from holes, and from the scent of things, the cave mouth was the source of fresh air in the place.

It smelt of water and pine, and Steve felt oddly at home.

The cave opened up, a door set into the far wall drawing his attention, but the whole thing was rather…modern. He looked around, his eyes widening. The walls of the cave were lined with shelves, all tastefully lit and backed with glass cabinets that held Captain America memorabilia.

All the way around the cave. Nick was smirking, Steve could see it in his peripheral. In the middle of the cave, there was a rounded bowl and Steve realized it had been clawed from the rock, smoothed over the years by a sinuous body that was now huddled below mounds and mounds of blankets, likely to make sleeping on the floor that much softer.

“You big baby,” Nick called. “Get your scaly butt up here.”

An irritated rumble sounded from the blankets, and then a snort. A silvery tail lashed, and Steve caught sight of the end, feathered like the rest of the dragon that wasn’t dappled with scales. He took a look around.

“Maybe we should go,” Steve said.

“If he wants his DVR fix, he’ll come out and behave,” Nick said. He cast a glare at the blankets, and Steve realized there was a pair of eyes giving Nick the stink eye right back. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Come on, Phil, it’s not that bad.”

Wait…Phil?

“Phil?” Steve asked, the floor of the cave suddenly pitching out beneath him as he looked to the beast that was crouched in the nest. “That’s…Phil?”

Nick raised a brow at the mountain of blankets. It heaved a sigh, and the dragon slowly shook them off, his crest rising in question before he hooded his wings over himself, wincing in pain, his left wing drooping, as if the muscle wasn't yet strong enough to support it. Steve could see the jagged scar that ran across his chest and winced in sympathy. He hadn’t seen Phil’s body.

It suddenly made sense; the closed casket, no family, no one even commenting on his death. Steve whirled on Nick, his mouth opening in fury, but a snort from the dragon made him stop. He gathered himself, looking back at…at Phil.

The dragon’s crest perked forward, steam rising gently from his nostrils as he lowered his head to Steve’s level. Fully upright, he just barely brushed the cave’s roof, and Steve had see the claw marks where Phil had been slowly widening the main cave. Some were older than others.

“So this is why you didn’t tell us,” Steve said. Nick nodded, stepping up beside Steve. “He wasn’t dead, but he’s not really healed, is he?”

“Not yet,” Nick agreed. “He can’t fly yet. Doctors say he’s got another six months to a year before everything is back to normal.”

“The doctors?” Steve asked, sounding a little strangled.

“He’s human for them.” Nick gave a small smile. “He can hold the shape just long enough, but it hurts him. He needs to be whole for his concentration to keep, and a big wound like this is hard to recover from.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “So his human form…”

“Oh, it’s still him,” Nick said. The dragon watched them with large eyes, and Steve glanced at him, sucked in by the blue-grey. “He’s every bit himself when he wears a human shape. He prefers it, sometimes. Says he likes people.”

Phil huffed, his wings rustling softly.

“You’re not playing me,” Steve said, begrudgingly. “You’re serious about this.”

“Serious as a heart attack,” Nick said, nodding. “I wouldn’t lie about this, doesn’t serve any interest I might have. Probably shouldn’t have brought you up at all, but I know he likes you best, so I figure a get-well visit wouldn’t hurt.”

Phil grunted, shuffling back and forth, a weaving motion.

“You’re not running off,” Nick said. “You can’t fly, Phil.”

Phil gave a soft noise and lowered his wings.

“Hi, Phil,” Steve said softly, stepping forward, so as not to spook him. “We missed you.”

He hesitated, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and then reached up toward the dragon, slow steps taking him down into the bowl-like nest where Phil sat, his tail lashing in uncertainty. His crest went up, his nostrils steaming, and Steve waited, his hand in the air, offering him friendship.

He closed his eyes.

After a long, interminable moment, a warm muzzle pressed itself into his palm. Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and Phil nuzzled his palm. Steve’s fingers spread over Phil’s snout, and he opened his eyes to see large ones in front of him.

“Hello,” he whispered, and Phil trilled something at him, his crest lifting higher and making his whole head seem fuller, more interested. Steve chuckled, and Phil nudged him. Steve tried for the spot Fury had scratched earlier, and Phil hummed, a rumbling Steve could feel in his chest as he massaged the surprisingly soft scales around Phil’s neck.

“See?” Nick said. “It’s good for you.”

Phil shot Nick a look that made Steve chuckle.

“Yes, you can have your TV now,” Nick said, grinning. He set about working through it, and Phil turned his attention back to Steve, humming that same throaty song.

Steve continued to rub and pet Phil’s head, finding new spots that made the dragon vocalize as he hit them. Burying both hands into the crest of feathers made Phil’s eyes close in bliss, and his tail thumped as Steve rubbed at the base of the feathers. Before he realized it, he’d sunk to the floor of the cave, Phil curling around him, and he leaned back against a broad side while he petted and fussed over Phil. A wing covered him from sight under glossy feathers, and it was like shutting the world out.

Steve found he kind of liked it.

Nick cleared his throat, and Phil’s wing lifted, leaving Steve blinking. He let Phil go, and Phil raised his head with a shake, looking unapologetic and smug.

“How are your food stores?” Nick asked.

Phil made a noncommittal noise, rose, and nudged open the door. Steve rose and followed, finding a whole apartment laid out beyond it. It was furnished in dark wood, soft furs, and had a fireplace. Steve found the whole thing incredible, the bathroom with working fixtures and the bedroom with a large bed, including a window to the outside that let in the…late afternoon sunlight. Steve had lost track of time.

Nick rummaged through the cabinets, muttering, and then turned to Phil.

“Are you trying to hunt on your own?” he asked pointing a finger. Phil’s crest lay back in irritation. “You know that’s not what we agreed on. What happens if you down a deer and can’t get it back here because you’ve exhausted yourself? Do I need to send Jasper back to keep an eye on you?”

Steve stifled a chuckle.

Phil looked resigned.

“I got you the huge freezer because I know how much meat it takes you to recuperate. This one was closer than all of them, Phil, don’t make me have this conversation again.”

Steve cleared his throat quietly. Both of them turned to look at him in surprise, as if they’d both forgotten he was there.

“I could…I could stay,” he offered. “I was planning on camping for the next two weeks. I could set up camp at the base of the mountain if that makes Phil more comfortable. I could make sure he’s eating, and keep an eye on things here.”

Phil huffed, annoyed, his crest slicking back. Steve hesitated.

“I mean, it’d be good for me to get away from everything, and this way, I know I’ll have someone to spend time with?” he offered. He reached up to pet gently through Phil’s crest. Despite himself, the dragon closed his eyes, curling closer to Steve.

“You know,” Nick said, fixing Steve with a sharp stare. “That’s not a bad idea. Your truck is hidden, keep it there. I’ll bring your gear up here and you can set up camp at the mouth of the cave if Phil is really that averse to sharing his space.”

Phil snorted softly.

“I didn’t think so,” Nick said. “I’m pretty sure you’re welcome to take the bed for now, as Phil’s in no shape to use it. Shower is hot and cold running water, and the TV is in the main cave.”

Steve beamed at Phil.

“Thank you, Phil.”

Phil hummed in reply, the song thumping through his chest like the beat of his heart. Steve couldn’t argue with the sound.


	2. A Treatise on Fish

Steve woke slowly, the morning sun pouring through the window and making him rub his eyes. He was warm, cradled in a bed that was far too soft for his liking. He’d been so wound up, however, that he’d fallen asleep early, bidding Phil goodnight and collapsing on the bed. He wondered why he’d slept so deeply, but he rose with a grunt, passing a hand over his face.

The cave rumbled with snores.

He gave a soft chuckle, glancing at the closed door to the antechamber outside. Phil still seemed to be asleep, and maybe that was a good thing. He rose, moved to the bathroom, and warmed the shower. The dragon hadn’t been able to do more than stick his head in the smaller apartment, swiveling his head on his long, swanlike neck, and Steve felt that a little privacy went a long way.

He stripped, preferring the water warm for this time of year, when the cave itself was chilled with a touch of frost. He ducked under the spray, soaking in the heat and sighing softly as it coursed down his back. Not quite scalding, but it felt good, and he left the shower refreshed and shivering a little as his feet touched the wet tile.

The apartment itself was heated throughout, and he looked up to find a vent right over his head. The cave itself was unregulated, but Steve figured that was because Phil had been much warmer in dragon form. Or at least, what he remembered of the man, a warm palm sweating with nervousness. A heartbeat that was far faster than the calm exterior. The shy smile and the admission he was a personal hero.

What had he done to deserve that?

He thought on that as he brushed his teeth, the warm air blowing over him and making him much more comfortable. Phil’s soft snores rumbled through the cave wall, regular and almost soothing. Phil seemed so much more comfortable as a dragon, though perhaps that was because he’d always been one, whereas being human meant learning new rules for everything, from socializing to eating.

He dressed and decided that breakfast was a good idea, his stomach growling. He moved into the kitchen and found it fully stocked, with pots and pans and a gas stove. He considered it a feat that SHIELD had gotten everything up there, but then, he’d seen the tricarrier bays beneath the Potomac. SHIELD definitely had the resources.

And Nick had intended on staying, it looked like. All the food in the apartment was fresh, with expiration dates set for next month. Fruits and vegetables, eggs, milk, all perishable, and all fresh in the fridge. Curious. Maybe they were for Phil if he returned to human form? He resolved to bring more groceries by if that was the case.

He cooked himself up a mess of eggs, finding bacon, too. He found himself doing things in time with Phil’s breathing, falling into a rhythm that came more natural than he cared to admit. Too often, he’d been alone, his own head for company, and knowing that Phil was in the next room was an even greater balm than he’d anticipated. He hummed as he scrubbed the skillet in the sink, his hands in the suds and a tune in his head. It was…nicer than he’d expected.

He let the dishes dry and moved to the door to check on Phil. Maybe he’d slip out for a walk while the dragon slept.

The sight that greeted him was comic, to say the least. He looked into the nest, where Phil was sprawled, flat on his back and snoring. His wings were splayed out beneath him to keep from being crushed, and his head was cocked back, eyes half-lidded as he slept. His right hind leg kicked gently, one forepaw rubbing at his own chest. Every so often, the dragon murmured, steam rising from his nostrils as he dreamed something.

Steve hid a smile, creeping past the dragon with his boots in his hand, his fishing pole and tackle in the other. There had been a lake further down the mountain, and he’d made plans to head down there for fresh fish for dinner.

He’d just had to recalculate how much fish he would actually need. Phil wasn’t small, and he wasn’t going to bring himself dinner home without something for his host.

As he reached the cave mouth, there was a whimper, and he turned, making sure Phil was still asleep. The dragon had merely shifted, rolling over and lying on his side, breathing deeply with a snort. Steam rose from his nostrils in a cloud, and Steve saw why the glass was necessary as the display cases fogged. It was nice that Phil took such care of everything. Steve watched him for a moment more, the large side rising and falling in Phil’s sleep. Shaking himself free of his wool-gathering, he moved outside.

He sat on a rock outside and put on his boots, soaking up the late fall sun. It was still early in the morning, easily eight o’clock. Nick had said Phil liked to bask, so he might be awake soon. Then again, Phil needed his rest, he was still recovering.

Sunlight glinted off of something on the ground around the ledge, and Steve realized that they were scales, the same consistency as thick coins. Phil had a smooth skin texture, but when he shed, they…changed. Sloughing them off meant that there were heavy disks of silver that littered the basking area, and he picked one up, pocketing it without thinking. Somehow, he just wanted the proof.

Something to show he wasn’t crazy.

* * *

Steve returned close to noon, a brace of trout across his shoulder. He had several for himself, and the rest were for Phil, large and silvery. Close to two dozen, all long as his arm and bound together in a neat cord, he carried them up the mountain, his pole and tackle box strapped to his back as he hauled the fish. Nick had said there was a deep freezer, so anything that they didn’t eat, they could save. When he reached the platform, he saw Phil, stretched out and enjoying the sun on his back, his wings curled close to his side and his eyes slitted closed.

He heard Steve coming, however, and turned his head, his crest lifting in question as he scented the air. At the smell of fish, he rose, padding forward and around Steve, sniffing him to inspect the fish.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Steve said, smiling. “I was figuring an early dinner, once I clean these.”

Phil did a little dance in place, patting his paws on the ground in front of Steve.

“Yes, some of these are for you,” he said, grinning wider. “You seem to have a stocked lake down there.”

Phil didn’t even bother to look ashamed. Mostly because he was watching the fish. Steve set them down and unstrapped his tackle box.

“I’ve got plenty, so don’t worry,” Steve assured him, kneeling and untying the fish. He pulled out his knife to begin the arduous task of cleaning and scaling the trout, knowing it would take a good bit of time.

He pulled out some spare butcher paper from his tackle box, and sat.

Phil whumped to the ground right next to him, his eyes large as he watched Steve. Steve raised a brow.

“I would think you’d want them cooked and cleaned,” he said. “I’m guessing that’s…not the case.”

Phil inched closer, licking his chops.

This was something different. Phil was different. Though he hadn’t really known Phil, had he? And honestly, was he expecting the dragon to clean and cook all his meals? He was a predator, they didn’t usually do that, did they?

He looked up at Phil, and Phil stared back at him.

Was Phil giving him the puppy eyes on purpose?

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said, accusation in his tone. Phil chirped at him, not touching the fish, but slowly inching forward. “You can wait until I’m done cleaning my own, first, at least.”

Phil whined. Steve was amazed at how vocal Phil actually was without forming words. He clicked, he chirped, he whined. It was all in different pitches and ranges, too. Blue-grey eyes fixed on him the whole time, and Steve felt his resolve weakening.

That had never happened before, but he hauled up another of the trout, his arm muscle bunching, and held it up. Phil looked from the fish to him, as though asking for permission. His whole body quivered, bunching up, and Steve had the impression that Phil could have taken the fish from him any time he wanted — but he chose not to, instead waiting for Steve’s pleasure.

“You sure you don’t want them grilled?” he asked. Phil whined. “Okay, all right. Here.”

Before he could toss it to Phil, the dragon’s head snapped forward, striking like a snake’s, and the silvery trout disappeared down Phil’s throat in two bites. He purred, licking his chops, and glanced at Steve, who was still counting fingers.

“We’ve gotta work on your people skills,” Steve murmured.

Phil merely chirped and blew steam at him as Steve settled in to clean his dinner.

* * *

Steve spent the rest of the afternoon storing and packing fish, and tossing them to Phil. After the first one, Phil had consented to catch them when thrown, and Steve wondered if the dragon had been making a point. Still, the dragon seemed genuinely pleased to have Steve there, often basking in the sun with his eyes closed, watching Steve through slitted lids. He declined eating more after a half-dozen, and Steve rolled the others in plastic and stacked them in the deep freeze, keeping two large filets for himself.

The deep freeze itself was something Steve would have expected out of a military base, heavy duty and with a steel door. It was right next to the apartment door, set in the wall, and Steve could see why. Phil gingerly opened it for him the first time, paws working the latch. It was wider and larger than any he’d ever been in, the size of a small house. Phil could actually walk in and select from the meat hanging up or stacked in sealed rows on shelves. It meant the dragon could have a store of meat without it going bad.

Which begged the question — did dragons get food poisoning? He’d have to ask Fury.

For now, he found a spare shelf, stacking the fish up with the intent on cooking it later in the week. Phil huffed behind him, the steam on his back warming him in the cold air. When he followed the dragon out, Phil curled up in the center of the nest, his wing up and obviously inviting Steve to sit with him.

Steve joined him after grabbing his sketchbook, settling into Phil’s warm side. The dragon pawed at a button, and chirped at the television, which came on, seemingly by voice command. It was a fascinating thing to watch, something so big manipulate technology the same as nimble human fingers. If this was progress, Steve was all for it. Phil loaded up something on television called “Hell’s Kitchen”, and Steve opened his notebook.

Four hours later, Steve agreed with Chef Ramsay. No one deserved food like that.

He looked over, and found Phil asleep. Smiling, he rose, his sketchbooks filled with drawings of lithe, sinuous forms bearing feathered crests and wings. The dragon snuffled, but Steve was able to retrieve the remote and shut down the television, slipping into the apartment without waking Phil.

* * *

After the warmth of the dragon’s side, even the apartment seemed a little chilly. Steve sank onto the couch to continue drawing, humming a little to himself. He’d keep a few of these, block them out, and make paintings of them. It would be a nice thing to do when he got back.

He realized no one would believe where he’d been, but then, he wasn’t one to talk much about himself. Natasha might wonder, and Sam, too, but they had their hands full with Bucky. He’d gotten a text while he was cleaning the fish that progress was slow, and that his friend still didn’t want to talk to him yet. Sam’s advice had been to give it time.

Steve had nothing but time now, with the major threats taken care of for the foreseeable future. Sure, someone could rear their ugly heads, but there were people like him to stop them. Heroes on their down time were far more likely for now, with HYDRA in remnants and in the wind, being hunted down by SHIELD taskforces.

While Steve didn’t like leaving much to the organization these days, it was still simple math that they had more resources than he did and could simply serve a better purpose. He grit his teeth and bore it, and perhaps that was why he was out here.

Not that he expected Phil to spill SHIELD secrets, regardless of the shape he wore. He sighed, rubbing his face, and realized he must be more tired than he thought, to be so wound up in his own head.

He frowned, trying to keep himself relaxed. Yes, bad people would and did rise up to threaten others. That’s why the Avengers were staying in touch. As much as he and Tony grated on each other, they’d agreed on that, setting up regular meeting times and sticking to them. Once a month seemed good until something needed their attention, and he took to his sketchbook to work out more of the team dynamic, setting people who worked well together into smaller teams.

He still had yet to see these “Heroes for Hire” in action, too, and wanted to see if it was viable to extend them an invitation to the Avengers.

He rubbed his eyes, looking up and realizing it was late. This would keep for later. He rose, the sound of snoring from the other room comforting, even as he shut the apartment door. Maybe, just maybe, he should set work aside for now. Focus on what he had.

That might be enough.

* * *

He woke in the middle of the night to music. Not traditional music, but someone was singing. It was a rolling thing, echoing in his chest as the vocalization outside the cave rose to a higher pitch. Not exactly birdsong, but it was beautiful, and haunting. He could feel it in his ribs as he padded barefoot to the cave’s mouth. Phil was sitting on the ledge, not exactly baying to the moon, but singing nonetheless.

He’d heard Phil make all kinds of noises that day, but it was nothing compared to this. Phil’s voice rode up the scales, his wings pulled close to his back, his tail curled around him. Steve had never heard something like this before, but it made him ache, the loneliness in the sound something that was obviously not meant for him to hear. He wondered if Phil remembered he was there, but shivering in the fall chill, he didn’t think he did. The dragon was singing to the stars, to the dark, and not to Steve.

Which made Steve wonder, bursting with questions no one probably had the answer to.

Were there other dragons? Was Phil the only one? Was he alone?

That was a sad, sad thought, one that resonated with him. The last of his kind, perhaps, only because he chose to fit in with humans. Steve realized he was assuming a lot, and he turned, creeping back into the cave under the cover of darkness and the haunting sound of dragonsong following him to bed.

* * *

When he woke, Phil was still asleep. The snoring echoed through the cave as before, and Steve smiled at it, realizing that Phil was comfortable with him here. He wasn’t trying to make it a permanent thing, but it was nice to have him there. Steve made breakfast, oatmeal and fruit, and watched the sun rise while he had his coffee.

It wasn’t exactly the roughing it he’d had planned, but it sure as heck was a nice way to spend his downtime.

He wondered if Bucky was doing okay.

He knew that would take time, though. He didn’t blame him, he was just worried. By the time he got his thoughts back in order, the dregs of coffee in his cup were cold. He rinsed the mug in the sink, moving out into the cave.

Phil was awake, and waiting for him, moving forward and circling around him, pressing his side against Steve in greeting. Steve reached up and stroked the soft scales, wondering how they differed from the scales discarded outside. Phil was certainly a marvel, that was for sure.

He’d retrieved his novel he’d been working through, and was planning on doing some reading in the sun. Phil seemed to approve of that idea, and he curled right around Steve, his head in Steve’s lap as Steve thumbed through the paperback Steinbeck Bruce had given him. Steve’s hand strayed to Phil’s crest, and Phil rumbled a purr, his eyes closed as he napped while Steve read.

It was all well and good until Steve realized his legs had fallen asleep. He pressed a hand to Phil’s neck.

“You’re going to have to move, I can’t feel my feet.”

Phil grunted, nosing into Steve’s stomach with a snort.

“I know you can hear me, Phil. C’mon. Let me up, and I’ll see about dinner.”

Phil popped an eye open, regarding Steve with a Look.

“I mean it. And yes, I won’t leave you hanging today.”

That seemed to satisfy Phil, and the slender neck lifted, letting Steve massage pins and needles back into his thighs.

“Nick was right, you know,” Steve said, smiling. “You’re a big softie.”

Phil snapped his teeth at him playfully, and Steve laughed, wobbling into the cave to make them both something to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Aerouant. Still working on where this is going, but for now, have Steve slowly relearning Phil in his natural habitat. Steve's slowly working on things in his head, and Phil is slowly healing. They're good for each other.


	3. The Wild Hunt

Two weeks had never passed by faster. The morning of the last day, Steve rose, his heart a little heavy. Phil was a good companion, quiet in a sense, but a good companion. He listened, at least, his crest rising as Steve spoke.

He didn’t go into too much detail, but he talked. He spoke about Bucky, about what happened on the Triskelion, about what he learned about SHIELD. How disappointed he was. It was mostly to hear himself. Silence was bad, even when your roommate was a dragon.

Steve shook himself.

Phil wasn’t his roommate. He wasn’t anything but a gracious host for letting him stay.

Still, Phil had listened, whining when Steve spoke on his feelings about the turns SHIELD had taken, as though to defend his coworkers. Steve frowned at the memory, the huge bulk of the dragon behind him shifting as Phil curled around him with a soft, sad moan.

He’d quieted then, not wanting Phil to hurt himself.

Now, however, he walked out into the antechamber, the sound of Phil’s snoring a rumble as usual. His coffee mug in hand, he padded to the door, and the lip of rock that Phil sunned himself on. It was just dawn, the sun coming up over the peaks, and Steve breathed in, the scent of pine getting in his nose and making him feel just a little bit more alive.

He sipped his coffee, sliding into a sitting position outside the cave. As the air warmed, the snoring eased, and soon a silvery snout poked its way out of the cave, followed by a yawn. Phil padded out, saw Steve, and chirped in greeting, circling him and laying down, his head in his lap. Steve put his hand in Phil’s feathers, now a habit, and the dragon purred, the rumble going through him as Steve leaned back against Phil’s warm body.

“I have to pack today,” Steve said, scratching at the base of Phil’s skull. Far from being inattentive, blue-grey eyes opened and looked up at him, understanding making Phil croon at him sadly. “I’m sorry. I thought you were keeping track of the days.”

He’d hike down at lunch and get his truck. For now though, he finished his coffee and laid his head back against Phil’s warm, smooth side. The dragon curled tighter around him, hooding a wing over his head, blocking out the world with black-tipped feathers.

“That won’t work, and you know it,” he said, chuckling. Phil made a clicking sound, snapping his teeth together in irritation. “Besides, when have I ever run from my problems?”

Phil grunted, clicking his teeth together again, fanning his wing out more.

“You’re incredible,” Steve said, reaching out and brushing the feathers with his fingertips. “But you can’t keep me here. Captain America has to go back into the world. That’s the way it is.”

Phil heaved a sigh, giving Steve a mournful look.

“To be honest, I don’t like it much either,” Steve admitted, lolling his head back against Phil’s side and listening to the thunder of his heart. “But you know I have to go. I had a good time out here. And if you want, I can come back soon.”

Phil rubbed his head against Steve’s chest, gently.

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” Steve closed his eyes, his hands in a feathered mane.

* * *

He was not so pleased that afternoon, when he walked out with his duffle over his shoulder to find Phil creatively stalling him by sitting on the hood of his truck.

“Phil.”

Phil gave him a look and scrunched his rump down lower, his tail giving an aggressive flick.

“Don’t you dare.” Steve watched as the truck groaned, the bed rising in the air as Phil put his full weight on the hood. “ _Phil._ ”

With a crack, the front axle broke, and Phil plopped down, the shocks in the back squealing as the dragon put his full weight on the truck. Steve gave a groan, his duffel landing by his feet as he slumped.

“I can’t stay, Phil, you know that. That is completely unacceptable. Off the truck.” Steve pointed.

Phil’s crest laid back, and he mimed the words back, audible grumbling accompanying the parroted expression. Steve pointed again, more emphatically, and Phil slunk into the cave, his head down and his wings curled next to his body.

Steve sighed. Phil was probably just as lonely up here by himself as Steve had been, but…now he had to call Fury for a ride. How pleased the erstwhile Director of SHIELD would be with the idea was another story.

* * *

He walked in to collect the last of his stuff and found Phil hunched over, his wings up and his back turned towards him. He sighed, not really all that upset about the truck (though it would need time in the shop). Steve stepped around to face Phil, but the dragon scooted on his butt to turn around, lifting his wings in a “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me” gesture.

Steve sighed, a little exasperated.

“Phil.”

Phil grumbled to himself and shifted away, looking over his shoulder at Steve like an enormous scolded parrot.

“Come here, please.” Phil hooded his wings and shuffled into the corner, his back toward Steve. Steve sighed. “So you’re going to be petty and not tell me goodbye? Fury’s going to be here soon.”

Phil turned his head, then heaved a sigh. He looped around Steve, pressing the super soldier against his chest, slotting Steve in between his paws. He bent his head, nuzzling at him, his wings blocking Steve from the world.

“You big jerk,” Steve mumbled. He wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, putting his cheek on soft feathers. Phil chirped sadly at him, a low trill that made him croon in response. “I promise, I’ll come and visit. It’s a nice thing to know you’re still here. We miss you. A lot.”

Phil trilled again and Steve rubbed at his jaw, before Phil’s nostrils flared and he went to go investigate the door of the cave. Steve followed, squeezing between Phil’s shoulder and the door, poking his head out to find Fury pulling up.

“He really did sit on your car,” Nick said, stepping out of the SUV. “I’ll be damned.”

“I don’t think he wanted me to leave,” Steve said. “I told him I’d come and visit. I hope that’s all right.”

“He gets to choose who comes and goes, it’s fine by me,” Nick said. “So long as you’re not leaving breadcrumbs for other people.”

“I should pay you back for the groceries, too…” he said.

“Nah, they’re for him. More often than not, I drive out every two weeks and we have a cookup so stuff doesn’t spoil when he’s like this.” Phil snorted, poking his head out the door, and Nick spotted him. “Yeah, you’re in some deep shit. You see this? You know who has to pay for this? Me.”

Phil yawned, exposing fangs that were as long as Steve’s forearm. Steve didn’t laugh, but he did wave Fury off.

“I can just have someone at the shop take a look…”

“And how are we gonna get it down the mountain? SHIELD’s got to airlift it, and I’m sorry, but stealth flying a Quin up this side of the mountain is a pain in the ass.”

Phil blinked and put his head on the hood of Nick’s SUV.

“Oh hell no, get your fat ass off my car. You can pull that shit with Rogers because one look at you and he was all twitterpated, but I’ve played poker with you.” Nick turned to Steve. “He cheats, by the way.”

Phil snorted steam onto the windows, but he didn’t attempt to sit on the car. Instead, he lifted his wing over Nick and fanned out his feathers.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve got your stuff early. And I’ll help Rogers clean up the apartment.”

“Oh, I already did that,” Steve said, sheepishly. “Mopped and dusted and made the bed, though there wasn’t really laundry…”

“Oh, there is. I didn’t show you,” Nick said. “By the shower, that rock outcropping is fake. Slide it back and that’s the laundry room.”

Steve blinked. “You really did think of everything.”

“Well, we tried. Phil had a lot of say in it, and it helped us visualize. This is only the first lair he’s designed for himself, but we’ve improved it slowly, over the years. I remember we were still digging it out in the nineties.”

Phil huffed more steam onto the windshield.

Steve stepped up and ran gentle fingers along the line of feathers that made up Phil’s mane. It ran from his crest to the middle of his spine between his wings, and Steve scratched him. Phil closed his eyes and hummed.

“Yep, completely smitten,” Nick said, hauling up one of Steve’s bags. “Come on, Rogers, I’ll treat you to lunch for the trouble.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, picking up his gear and sliding it all into the back of the car. They packed up in short order, Phil resting his head on the hood and looking dejected. Steve reached up, petting through his crest one last time.

“We have to go,” he said softly. “I’ll be back, though, I promise.”

Phil made a mournful noise, touched his snout to Steve’s hair, then padded back to the entrance of the cave. He squeezed into the entrance, his tail wiggling, and disappeared. Steve blew out a sigh, then ruffled his own hair, turning to Fury.

“He really didn’t take it well,” Nick admitted. “You’re the first person besides me and the techs who correct his power grid to come and visit him.”

Steve frowned. “Is he always this solitary?”

“He does it by choice, to keep himself safe,” Nick said, closing the back of the car up and heading for the driver’s side. “It’s not really good for the entire organization to know about the dragon we have holed up here.”

Steve nodded. Still, that was really…sad. He made a mental note to swing by when he could. Phil could use the company.

“We’ll get your car towed back to the closest SHIELD mechanic,” Nick was saying. Steve buckled up and nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for Phil?”

“Books on tape,” Nick said. “He loves ‘em. Mostly Westerns, though he’s taken a liking to a lot of the newer spy novels, god knows why.”

“Good idea.” Phil wouldn’t have to turn pages, even as dexterous as he was with his paws. “I’ll definitely look into some.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Nick said. “He doesn’t have a lot of people. And you mean a lot to him anyway. So…I appreciate your help.”

“Not to worry,” Steve said, smiling as they jounced back down the mountain. “He was an excellent roommate.”

* * *

“So he’s made progress?” he asked Natasha as he handed her a mug of tea.

“Some,” she said, and he had the feeling he was being told a half-truth. “He’s avoiding me, and avoiding you. Me, because he knows…what we were, and you because he doesn’t want to be seen as less-than.”

Steve sighed. Bucky had been found, sitting in the lobby of the Smithsonian exhibit. He’d been seated, his hat in his hand, waiting for the cameras to pick up the glint of his arm. He’d been taken in without a fight, and Fury had set immediately to getting him help.

Which was saying a lot, considering Steve had stormed the bunker when he’d heard.

Still, Bucky was working with his therapist. It was heartening to hear. Steve was happy for it, but…he missed his friend. He knew healing needed to come first, though, and talking with Sam had cemented that with Steve.

Still, even with his best friend working on making a recovery, Steve still felt lonelier than ever.

He looked down at the sketches he’d been working on before Natasha had shown up, gathering them up to clear off the table.

“Are you doing fantasy art?” Natasha said, tilting her head at the sketches. “Those are really good.”

“It’s…um, well, it’s something I’ve been working on,” Steve said, pinking. He couldn’t tell her that it was Phil – not only had he promised, he’d never get her to believe him without taking her to the peak. “I wanted to try something different.”

She smiled. “I like them. They’re very expressive. Did you watch cats or something?”

“Nah,” Steve said. “It just kind of came to me.”

“He looks very peaceful,” she said. “I hope you finish some of them.”

“I probably will,” he said, tucking the sketches onto the breakfast bar. “I’ve been reading a lot of Tolkien, and the idea of a dragon who’s all fire and brimstone seems a little off to me.”

He poured himself another mug of tea and joined her at the table.

* * *

Steve found the scale in his pants pocket as he was doing his laundry. He smiled, weighing the large silver disk in his palm, and then set it aside until he was done with the washer. Carefully, he used an awl from his carving set to bore a hole in the scale, stringing it on a leather thong. He put it around his neck, and it rested against his sternum, warm and weighty.

Steve decided it was nice, and he wore it out, for luck.

* * *

He didn’t get back to the peak for a month, and he felt guilty. His truck had been in the shop, and with fall turning to winter, it was dangerous to climb the path in anything without a winch and four wheel drive.

To make the blow a little easier, he tucked a gift basket full of treats into the passenger seat of his car. Dried fish, jerky, and salami, along with various other potable meat would be good for Phil to munch on without having to wait for his freezer to thaw. The fact that the basket was huge, easily a hamper, wasn’t lost on the lady who was serving him at the counter.

“Would you like some crackers and cheese to go with it?” she asked. “Maybe some dried fruit?”

He thought about it, then added the treats.

Now, though, the hamper sat with its bottom on the floor of the truck’s cab, and he steered his vehicle carefully up the path. It had snowed the day prior, and he had a feeling he’d be marching through the drifts. There’d be no way to get the truck completely up the mountain.

…at least Phil couldn’t sit on it this time.

He’d packed for the weekend and dressed for cold weather, his stocking cap and goggles obscuring his face. Phil would likely be able to smell him before he’d be close enough to halloo the cave anyway, but he’d make sure Phil knew it was him.

He parked the truck in a copse of trees before the trail started to get really steep. Covering it with a new tarp, this one snow dappled, he gathered his duffel and the hamper and started to climb.

Quick reflexes and powerful muscles made short work of the hike, but even Steve was breathing hard at the top, his breath escaping him in small puffs of smoke in the morning air. Phil wasn’t on the lip of the cave.

Strange, he usually liked to sunbathe. Maybe he was too cold today?

Steve went looking for the entrance, the door obscured by some clever camouflage that made the entrance invisible just from straight observation. Finally, he found it, a lip of rock that jutted out a bit too much. He slid it to the side, and the cave door opened just enough to let him squeeze through.

He set the hamper down inside, then moved toward the inner cave.

“Phil?” he called. There was no sound from the inner chamber, and indeed, Steve found it to be empty when he explored it. Where was Phil? He pulled out his phone, then the scraping of claws against the rock sounded. He crept quietly to the mouth of the cave.

There was Phil. The dragon dragged something heavy up the trail, and Steve saw that it was a stag, its neck hanging at an odd angle from Phil’s jaws. Phil placed the carcass gingerly on the flat plateau that made his sunning spot, and then promptly collapsed with a groan.

“Phil!” Steve started forward, but he’d startled Phil. The dragon whipped his head around, jaws snapping, and Steve dove to the side, skidding in his boots out of reach. It put him a couple of feet down the pathway.

Phil groaned again, his tail lashing.

“Phil, what happened?” Steve forced the thread of panic out of his voice and moved to inspect the gouges in Phil’s hide. A good handspan long, near both his ribs and belly, they weren’t going to clot without first aid and bled steadily.

Steve wondered how long he’d taken to drag his erstwhile meal up the mountain. He didn’t want to think about how much blood he’d lost. He swallowed, forcing himself closer, even with Phil’s lips writhing back from his teeth.

“I need you to lie there, okay?” he said softly. “I’m gonna help.”

Phil made a noise between a growl and a moan. Steve hurried into the cave, digging through the closet until he saw the gigantic duffel full of med supplies. It looked like either Fury or Phil himself had loaded up in bulk.

He should call Fury. His brain was moving at a million miles a minute, working out the best plan and six contingencies as he shouldered the duffel, grabbed several towels, and headed back out. Phil was lying on his side, breathing shallowly.

“Phil,” Steve said, his voice clear so the dragon could hear him. “I need you to let me see the gouges in your side, pal.”

Phil groaned softly, his eyes half lidded. His tail thumped once, and Steve took that as affirmation. He slipped gloves on and stepped closer, kneeling to inspect the wound. It was bleeding freely, and didn’t look like it had anything embedded in Phil’s side, for which Steve was grateful.

“You’re gonna need stitches,” he warned. Phil groaned again, and Steve took a large towel and placed it over the wound, applying pressure. Phil snarled, his teeth clicking together, and Steve winced. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.”

Phil shifted his wing to cover Steve, and then it drooped.

Steve worked quickly, cleaning off most of the blood, wiping it away, and threading a large, curved needle. He placed his ear above the gash, away from the wound, and listened. It didn’t appear that his lung had been punctured, and Steve breathed an almost sigh of relief. The trickle of blood had slowed, now seeping as Steve worked.

Pulling the towel away carefully, Steve stitched the two long gashes closed, his stitches neat and close together. Phil gave a whimper when he tied off the first one, and Steve pressed his hand to Phil’s side, shedding his jacket to the cold because he was sweating up a storm.

“You’re doing good, pal. Real brave. I have one more to do. You think you can hold still?” Steve crooned, threading the needle again. “Shh, I’ve got you. Let me help.”

Phil breathed out a low moan, but he held himself still as he could, his muscles shivering and bunching as Steve worked to clean and stitch the last gash. Steve hummed softly as he worked, talking to distract Phil, his hands working in neat, precise movements.

“There we go,” Steve said, crooning again. “Okay. I’m going to wipe this down and cover it in gauze. Do you think you can make it into the cave?”

Phil grunted. Steve imagined that he’d try, if prompted. He didn’t know exactly how much Phil weighed, but he knew that carrying the dragon inside himself wasn’t an option. He taped several large gauze pads to Phil’s side, hoping it would hold until Fury and the medical team could get there. His gloves were stained red, but he’d stopped the bleeding and stitched him up, so that was a thing. Breathing out, he moved to Phil’s head.

“All done,” he whispered. “Come on, come inside and I’ll bring the deer in. Okay?”

Phil heaved himself to his feet. Steve watched the gauze to make sure he wouldn’t tear stitches, and Phil limped inside the cave. Steve shivered, the heat of the dragon gone making him aware of his cooling sweat. He stripped the gloves, picked up his gear and jacket, and hurried inside after him.

He plopped most of his clothes in the washer, then called Fury from the apartment kitchen’s phone.

* * *

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding unconsciously. “A deer. Looked like an eighteen point buck. Got him pretty good in the side. I stitched him up, but I’m gonna need medical personnel to come look at it. It’s not going to heal pretty if not.”

Fury sighed, but agreed. He’d be there in an hour, since it seemed Phil was out of immediate danger. Steve shouldered on his jacket once more and brought the deer inside, dragging it into the freezer to let it sit. He’d deal with cleaning it a little later. Right now, however, he needed a shower.

He let the hot water take care of the rest of the blood on him, and started up the wash on his clothes. He was warm again, especially with the cave façade shut. He padded out in his sweatpants, bare-chested, to check on Phil.

Phil gave a soft groan, but he blinked an eye open at Steve and nosed into his stomach, purring.

“Hey there, pal,” he said. “What on earth prompted you to go hunting?”

Phil clicked his jaws together absently, his eyes closed.

“You scared me half to death,” Steve whispered. “Please don’t do that again.”

Phil hummed. Steve buried his hands in Phil’s crest and soothed him to sleep.

* * *

“You’re kidding me with this shit, Phil,” Nick said, giving him the stinkeye. Steve stood by as Nick scolded Phil, who lay on his side trying not to kick Dr. Mathers, the one agent with the clearance to even treat him in this condition. Steve hadn’t bothered to toss a shirt back on, the cave warming with Phil’s body heat and actually staying rather toasty despite the storm outside.

Mathers leaned back on his heels, replacing the gauze with clean strips and then pulling his gloves off.

“You did a good job with the stitches,” he said to Steve. “I’m hesitant to remove them, but initial examination says I might not have to. He seems to not have internal injuries, which is good. How deep were the wounds?”

Steve considered, then held up his own larger hand. “About a knuckle and a half.”

“So not that deep. He was lucky,” Mathers said. “It didn’t even breach the muscle wall.”

“Damn right, he’s lucky,” Nick snapped, and Phil grumbled. “What have I told you about hunting on a bum wing?”

Phil huffed and put his head on his paws.

“You’re lucky Rogers came by when he did, because you’d have bled out if not.”

Mathers didn’t bother to correct Fury while he was on a roll. Steve thought that was a wise decision. He helped the Doc clean up, and Fury started to wind down as they were repacking his kit.

“So if I catch you hunting again, I’m going to make you into shoes,” he said. Phil rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Fury,” Steve said, interrupting smoothly.

“No, thank you for keeping his dumb ass out of trouble.” Nick gave him a severe look. Phil finally managed to look a little sheepish, which seemed to satisfy Nick. “All right.”

He turned to Steve, giving him an appraising look.

“How busy are the Avengers right now?” he asked.

“Apart from meetings?” Steve replied. “Not very. Why?”

“I’d like to put you on assignment,” he said, glancing at Phil, then back at Steve. Steve saw his eye flick down to his chest, where the scale and his dog tags rested side by side. He suddenly wished he’d worn a shirt. “I’d like you to babysit him. Keep him company so he doesn’t go stir crazy.”

Steve considered. Phil’s tail thumped the ground, and the look in blue-grey eyes was enough to make him consider harder. He really didn’t have anything going on, and he could leave early to make the meetings at noon. Rubbing his chin, he gave a slow nod.

“Cover food and we have a deal,” he said.

“Done,” Fury said, and they shook on it. “Barring Assembles, you’ll stay here. I’ll send a Quin if you need a lift.”

“Works for me,” he said. Some time away from his apartment and Avengers Tower might be just the ticket. He wouldn’t concentrate so hard on Bucky’s recovery, and he could get some painting done. “Can you pick up some things from my apartment?”

“Make me a shopping list,” Nick said.

* * *

After the doctor and Nick had said their goodbyes, Steve sat down in the main cave with Phil, the dragon rubbing his snout against Steve’s hands.

“I really hope this wasn’t a ploy to get me to stay here,” he said. Phil snorted against his chest and Steve shivered. “That’s what I thought.”

Still, as he settled against Phil’s side, he couldn’t help but wonder. He fell asleep with his fingers in Phil’s crest, the trill of a soft song in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking so long. I've gotten heavy back into RP and that's taking a lot of time and creativity, as I'm one of the admins of the group I'm in. Thank you for reading, though, and I hope you're enjoying the story!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not doing so hot mentally, so I don't feel I can adequately work on Douleur. I need the right, safe mindset for that.
> 
> Instead, have something else I've teased multiple times on tumblr, and have just started plotting out. I hope you enjoy it, Constant Readers. This might eventually trail into AOS territory. I haven't decided yet.
> 
> (Aerouant is "Dragon" in Welsh.)


End file.
